Cursed
by Hisoka yume
Summary: Witnessing death and pure bloodshed at a young age, Andy Barclay had developed a serious phobia towards dolls, puppets, and dummies. Thanks to a certain 'good guy' doll, he believes they're all one in the same; them existing only to kill. Oh, how he couldn't be more wrong. In his life-time, it's either enslavement, or death. (An attempt of making a Slappy vs Chucky story.)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: E** ven though it would be highly unlikely people will read this, (merely no stories written for this), I wanted to throw this out there anyway. Hopefully some-one will get enjoyment out of this.

Story-line wise, this story takes place a couple of years after Child's Play 2.

* * *

The young ten year old pulled the covers over his eyes. Surely, he thought, if he didn't make eye-contact, **it** would disappear. Hopefully, the mere image would erase from his mind and the figure would be gone within sight. Though, even if his eyes were shut tight or opened underneath the gentle fabric, the child could still see the figure. Clearly, out of sight, was definitely _not_ out of mind. And really, out of all the terror and torture he had been through, how _can_ he forget? How can he possibly forget about _**him**_? Feeling defeated, the child lowered his blanket and returned his gaze to the corner. This _thing_ wasn't like _**him**_ , yet, something about its _eyes_ reminded him of the horrid doll.

Not moving an inch, sitting silently on the rocking chair was a ventriloquist dummy. As well as the child, its lifeless eyes remained focused on him. Sure it gave a neutral smile in return, though, with a shadow casting over him, the boy could've sworn seeing it _smirking_ instead. He tightened his grip on the blanket. The way it was dressed didn't help either. Surely, this thing wasn't fooling anyone, the dummy, trying to pass the message that he's harmless, by wearing a gentleman's attire. Polished brown shoes, crafted brown neat hair, a gray suit, red bowtie and a boutonnière wasn't selling it towards the child. Not by a long shot. The doll he vividly remembered was similar. The murderer, trying to pass himself off by being friendly due to the ironically labeled, _**Good Guy**_ , name on his person. Hmph, they're all so nice on the outside, that it misinterprets them from being monsters on the inside.

After studying the dummy more closely, it then suddenly clicked. Didn't the dummy have brown eyes? Then, why was he seeing an icy blue instead? Similar…to…..The boy then sprang from his pillow. Within seeing _those_ colored eyes, it was no wonder the dummy was a reminder. Closing his own eyes, not wanting to look, he started to hear that awful laughter. Why, why couldn't _**he**_ just leave him alone? Having enough, the boy opened his eyes, and finally jumped off the bed. With a shred of bravery, he walked to the corner of the room, and yanked the dummy off the chair. While bringing him to the light, the boy saw that the dummy had its chocolate brown eyes again. Huh, shadows, really do make objects scarier than they appear, though; the boy wasn't taking any chances. Scooping the dummy in one arm, he walked to the closet and opened it. Having it wide, he threw the thing inside and closed the door. Finally, maybe at least he could _try_ and get some sleep. Though, as soon as he was mid-way to the bed, the tiniest hope the child had….vanished.

 _Let me out…._

 _I can't breathe….._

He felt a sudden chill down his spine. Looking at his arms, he even had goosebumps.

 _Please….._

He heard again.

Still having his feet glued to the floor, he slowly turned back to the closet door. He took a gulp. Not only was this dummy a _**bad**_ reminder of the source of his nightmares, but now, he was hearing a voice; a strange raspy voice. Ultimately, his mind was spinning, his imagination thinking of the worst. Either _**he**_ found a way to inhabit a different vessel, or the child got tangled up with _another_ possessed being. Feeling scared, his first instinct was to run and call on his new adoptive parent, though, knowing full well of the outcome, he stayed where he was. What was the point? No-one believed him, especially the last family he was with; and they paid the price for it. Still, it hurt though when he couldn't stay with his _sister,_ but in the end, it couldn't be helped. She was eventually taken in by a different family. Well, at least she would be safe if _**he**_ returned, or, maybe _when_ _ **he**_ returned.

He moved a couple of steps closer to the closet. Though, before he was inches away of grabbing and turning the knob, he stopped, thinking. If this dummy were to be _**him,**_ then he'll just attack once the door is opened, but, if it's something else….well…it couldn't hurt to be armed. Stepping away, he then ran out of the room, and within ten minutes, returned with a dangerous utensil; a knife. Hopefully this weapon will be sharp enough to pierce its heart. After all, that's how _**he**_ was stopped the first time, second time was being blown to bits, third time, may be the charm. Edging slowly towards the closet door, the boy placed the knife behind his back. Taking a breath, he then grabbed the knob and turned. Once the door was opened a crack, he peeked inside. Even though there was nothing but darkness, the boy half-expected for the dummy to push and lunge at him; but, as the door cracked wider, no assault came.

Instead, he was welcomed with the same neutral smile. The dummy was lying against a couple of boxes, having his hands together over his lap; those brown eyes, never leaving his gaze. His grip on the knife lessened a bit. If this thing really was _**him**_ , then he would have attacked him by now. So…maybe….he hadn't returned. But then…how does that explain the voice from earlier? He regained his hold on the utensil. One thing's certain, he _had_ to be sure. Still being cautious, he kneeled down, and grabbed the dummy by the arm; pulling him out of the closet. The boy knew it was silly, though as he brought the thing out, again, he expected some-kind of forceful tug or protest from the _toy_. But no reaction was given.

Eerily, it seemed as the boy sat, and brought him close, the dummy's eyes were fixated on the child's every move, _especially_ , when the boy pulled out the hidden knife. Once the child brought the sharp object close to its face, the boy suddenly thought he saw the dummy's eyebrows narrow. **It** , giving off a sense of not liking what he was doing; though, once when the child blinked, he saw the same default face. Was it his imagination….or?

He moved the knife closer to the left eye.

He took a breath.

" _Talk,"_ he instructed; finding his voice.

"Or _**else**_."

The blade inched even closer.

If threating to _burn_ a doll got it to start talking, surely, a jab to the eye will work just as good for a dummy; especially, a _talking_ dummy.

His heart started to race, thinking that the thing would crack at any minute. Though, as time passed, he continued to gaze at its default face. Huh, was this dummy just _that_ good at pretending, or, was the child really losing it thanks to the stupid good guy doll? He pulled the blade back an inch.

"I'm…I'm going to give you til the count of three," he began.

His heart was still pounding.

"One."

The dummy's eyes looked cold.

"T-T-two," he stuttered.

Its smile, suddenly twisted into a evil grin.

"Three!"

Heart still racing, the boy was about to pierce the eye- socket, but then, he realized something….no harm had come to him. There were no sudden movements, no harsh-out bursts, no death threats, or teeth trying to rip skin….nothing. For the first time ever, it was just him…alone… _safe_. Within time, he lowered the knife, and took another breath; feeling relieved. The dummy…wasn't alive. Bringing the blade to the floor, he then embraced the dummy into his arms.

"S-Sorry…" he uttered; treating it as if it was alive regardless.

"It's just that…when it comes to dolls, puppets, or anything that appears _human_ ….I go a little—"

He stared at the abandoned weapon on the floor.

"—overboard…."

He returned his gaze to the dummy.

Feeling the need to fill the silence, and try to steady his heart-beat, the child gave a dry laugh. All this was so stupid, thinking that a dummy could be alive, why, at best, he could've been sleeping instead. A part of his mind was saying this to himself, though, at the same time, another part kept nagging; the voice saying he _had_ to do it. He gave a sigh; hopefully, he could sneak the knife back into the kitchen before his _Dad_ noticed, last thing he would want is for _him_ to assume the worst. Hoisting the dummy up, he then walked and placed him back on the rocking chair. Strangely, as the boy was fixing its posture, the dummy's eyes were now fixated on the knife. The boy was already so exhausted that he didn't even notice.

"…You know…" he continued; thinking out loud, "….I always feel like I'm hiding, yet….at the same time, trying to live my life in the open."

As he straightened the dummy's legs, he gave another sigh, "It's hard….Try living in a world where all you want is freedom, yet all you get is a life of torment."

Abruptly, the boy's words took a sudden interest to the dummy, its eyes diverting back; away from the utensil.

"I really _**hate**_ that doll," he muttered; remembering those times.

Though eventually, he shook away the memories. Sleep was important, if he thought about _**him**_ now, he'll never get to sleep. Already feeling drained as he was, and not wanting to do a second trip down the stairs, he simply took the knife and put it under his bed. Note to self, wake up early to sneak the item back into the drawer, and if he so happens to get caught while in the kitchen, he'll just give an excuse of looking for a buttered knife for toast, but accidently pulled out the wrong one. Sure he'll get into trouble, but at least the excuse will astray his Dad from his _real_ intentions. After thinking it through, he then closed the closet door and went straight to bed. Though, before he closed his eyes, his gaze was back to the dummy in the corner.

Hm, he remembered when he first received the dummy as a gift; he read some strange language from the card it came with. Never knew what it all meant, though, he figured when he flipped it to other side, the letters spelled were the dummy's name. Feeling the power of sleep finally overtaking him, he slowly closed his eyes.

"Good-night…. **Slappy** …"

Without another word, his eyes were finally shut tight.

After a while, seeing that the small child was now fast asleep, the dummy loosened up; grinning. Finally, he can move.

Being sneaky, and _quiet_ as possible, the little **gentleman** got off the chair. Luckily the squeaky noises from the chair were so faint, the child couldn't hear them. Once the dummy was to his feet, he then took a moment and stretched a bit.

"Here I was sitting _nicely_ on a chair, minding my own business, only to find myself being _yanked_ , and _thrown_ into a closet," the dummy, Slappy said.

He brushed off some dust on his suit.

"Hah, and they say _I'm_ the rude one," he continued with a whisper.

Still being quiet, he then started to gaze at his new surroundings. To his eyes, it was nothing _too_ out of the ordinary. From being housed in many children's rooms, this room was particularly no different. Quite a shame he mused, from the small details he'd been given, the dummy thought the child's room would've reflected more to the boy's unstable mind, like a dungeon, or an asylum. Hell, for all he knew, the boy was probably heading in that path already. Merely breathing a _single_ syllable and the dummy would be immediately put to death….figurative speaking in this case. Whispering behind the closet door already proved that alone.

As the child slept, Slappy came close and retrieved the knife from under the bed. He eyed the utensil, admiring its sharpness.

"Such a pity…" he began.

His gaze diverted to the boy.

"Normally I wouldn't get involved in these types of situations….it's just no fun trying to scare a child if they're already _broken."_

Slappy then climbed onto the bed with blade in hand. Quietly, he leaned close; examining the boy's sleeping face.

"But thanks to the curse and _Jimmy—_ ," he spat his old slave's name, "—not only am I tied to this kid, but I have to be _nice_ , and _**help**_ him."

 _The Three Good deeds_ he mused.

 _Ha, Ha, well…I would consider putting him out of his misery would be_ _ **nice**_ _enough; after all, the world is a cold and cruel place to live in…._

 _….and yet….his words…._

Thinking of a certain dummy **he** hated with a passion, Slappy wondered, if the child's story was true, he wanted to know…just who or what this doll was, and most importantly, what was its _**name**_. He'll eventually reveal himself and ask the kid, though for now, he'll just play it by ear, and wait; but not too long…considering in what he had to do.

In the meantime…..

As much as the dummy wanted revenge for having the knife close to his eye, he simply placed it behind his back and leaned even closer to the child's ear.

"Goodnight…. **Andy** …"

 _Or should I say…._ _ **Slave**_ _….heee heee heee_

* * *

 ** _*Happy Halloween Month!*_**


	2. Chapter 2

_Beep!_

 _Beep!_

 _Beep!_

 _Beep!_

The annoying sound kept ringing in young Andy's ears. Instantly groaning and moaning, the child lifted the covers over his head. He hoped the dreadful noise would either cease, or be magically drowned out by the soft, yet, not particularly sound proof, blanket. But, as the _beeps_ remained constant, and, probably getting louder within each _beep_ , Andy figured there was no other alternative. Feeling a bit groggy while ripping off the covers, he slowly sat up from his pillow, and reached for the digital alarm clock. Once he pushed the button on top, the room was silent once more. Still not fully awake, he then sleepily rubbed his eyes, getting rid of some of the _sleep sand_. Once he was done, and let out a morning yawn, he then turned to the window. Surprisingly, the rays of sunlight haven't entered his room just yet, it was still dawn.

Within seeing the sight, Andy automatically turned back to his alarm clock. He grabbed it from his dresser, and viewed the numbers up close.

6:30 a.m.

It read.

 _Huh…. Six thirty? I could've had thirty more minutes of sleep._

 _Why did I—_

His train of thought suddenly stopped.

In just one heavy wave, it all started to come back.

Very slowly, he focused his eyes to the corner of the room.

 _ **Morning, sleep well?**_

At least, that's what Andy thought the dummy would've said.

Slappy was placed on the rocking chair where he had left him; smiling as always. Huh, well, that was the first for him, mostly when-ever Andy would leave that _doll_ around…he would always find it in another place. And…half of those times were when he didn't even _know_ the thing was alive. Ha, thank goodness this dummy wasn't. He wouldn't know what he'll do if it was. Ha, ha, ha…. Eh…...

Immediately shaking away the thought, Andy then turned his attention to the end of the bed. Funny how a few hours of sleep, can make a person forget the reason _why_ they had to wake up early in the first place. Most of the time, when-ever a person hears that _sound_ , from _any_ alarm clock, all they want to do is shut the stupid thing off and re-enter dreamland; especially, if you were that person that didn't get enough sleep. Little Andy here may have lost some sleep, though, even after waking up a second time to setup his alarm, he still managed to catch a few Zzz's….thankfully. Once he crawled and moved the sheets, Andy then poked his head underneath the bed. Not thinking too much of it, the boy was expecting to see the knife that he left there. But, as his eyes moved wildly, searching, in hopes to spot the dangerous utensil, he eventually came to the conclusion that it was long gone.

NO! It couldn't be! It was RIGHT there!

 _The knife…where's the knife?!_

He instantly jumped off the bed, and lied on his stomach, checking to make sure. As Andy was preoccupied; his back turned, the dummy loosened, blinking a couple of times. Man the trick was hard, when you're alive, yet still have to _pretend,_ try sleeping with your _eyes open_. Some humans could probably do it…though not to the extension that puppets and dolls can. Even if they have to sleep with their eyes open, training yourself not to blink in the process of waking, or _being_ waking is another factor. Being around for centuries, Slappy was already a master at this, but, every now and then, he _did_ need a break. Ya think being still is easy? For a human, try lying or sitting some-where for twenty fours, playing _dead;_ it wouldn't be so thrilling now would it? After being awake for a while, and seeing that the child was frantically looking for the knife that **he** took, Slappy couldn't help but be amused.

Since it'll be hard to move around this joint, the dummy was going to take every chance he got to stretch his muscles. As Andy continued looking underneath the bed, Slappy simply smiled and rested his head on his hand. Really, a possibly deranged kid, flipping out over a knife, a knife that a ten year old shouldn't even _have,_ yeah…at this rate, the more Slappy pondered of the situation, the more he was coming to terms that he did the kid a favor; perhaps a _good deed_ even, considering his safety. Yet, the dummy knew the curse didn't work that way, to even exploit a good deed properly, the person _had_ to show appreciation. Not to Slappy's surprise _this_ was little to none. Though, that was ok, he wasn't trying to knock one off the first night anyway. He had…something else in mind. Once he saw the child slowly rise from the floor, the dummy then assume back into position.

Being in a silent panic, Andy then returned his gaze to the dummy. Immediately, he knew it was silly, but—

 _Come to life with knife in hand; better run as fast as you can._

Biting his lower lip, he started to approach Slappy. Not wanting to have a repeat of last night, Andy tried not to show fear. Once he was inches from the chair, he then cautiously pulled out his arm, and waved his hand from side to side.

"Hel—Hello?" he asked.

"Slappy?"

As the boy's hand was in his sights, and, waaay to close for comfort, Slappy's first instinct was to move his head forward and _chomp_ on Andy's fingers. With his skills, he could make the deed look like an accident, though, knowing full well that he couldn't do anything bad, nor would the deed help the cause; the dummy simply remained motionless, staring blankly at the child in front of him. Boy, if the child hadn't woken him up and pulled this stunt, the dummy could probably guarantee that his jaw would've slammed down on his hand already. After all, Slappy always had a habit of biting people when-ever his body was in a comatose state.

Still not receiving a response, Andy then put his hand down and eyed the door.

 _Hm….wonder if its' back in the kitchen?_

Having this in mind, he was about to go and check, but then, the dummy—

"You're…you're coming with me," he whispered.

And, with no words from Slappy, Andy picked him up and began to carry him. Once he got a good grip, he walked and opened the bedroom door. Poking his head out to the hall, Andy made sure that his father wasn't up. Thankfully, seeing that it was still some-what dark, Andy had some time to go into the kitchen. Being quiet and most importantly, keeping the dummy close, he then made his way down the stairs. Once he made it down, he then proceeded to the right and entered the kitchen. Wasting no time, Andy walked over and placed Slappy on the counter in from of him. Wouldn't want to make the mistake of setting him down some-where the child couldn't see him. To Andy, if there was a chance that the dummy was _indeed_ alive, he wouldn't want his back turned from here on out.

Opening the drawer in front of him, Andy started to look for the knife. Though, as he was careful not to make too much noise, he noticed the knife wasn't in there either.

"Where could it be?" he uttered under his breath.

Moving his pupils, Slappy eyed the troubled boy.

 _ **You're not going to find it in there.**_

Silence…..

The boy didn't DARE meet the dummy's gaze, he stayed frozen stiff.

It—he—is alive?

N-No…. it couldn't be, the voice he remembered was raspy, _this_ voice, although not raspy yet eerily similar, didn't give off a sinister vibe. In conclusion, this could only mean one thing. Giving a sigh, Andy then closed the drawer and slowly turned to the source of the voice. Though, keeping in mind of the ventriloquist dummy in the back, he took a couple of steps to the side. Letting the mysterious figure not only see Andy but **it** as well.

"Uhh…hi Robert—uh I mean…. _Dad_."

Seeing that his adoptive father stepped out the shadowy entrance _holding_ **the** knife, Andy hardly made eye-contact. In the end, he figured he was busted. Only been here a few days and well, he just might get sent back to the orphanage. Thereby, adding to the list of other family members who didn't want him anymore. Feeling bad, Andy hung his head in shame, his mind already set on what's to come. Not saying a word, the older man walked to the circler table in the center, and placed the knife on its wooden surface. Giving no clues to what he could possibly be thinking, Robert simply pulled up the chair.

"Care to sit?" he pointed to the chair from across the table.

Not moving, Andy then looked at Slappy.

"Don't worry, I'm here," as if reading the boy's mind.

Though, still not sure what this man was going to say, Andy still felt some-what terrified. Once the older gentleman took his seat, the boy soon walked over and took his. As silence continued to fill the room, Robert simply stared at the knife on the table. Oh, where to begin? Feeling that his glasses were beginning to slide off his face, he used his finger to push them back to the bridge of his nose. Once he finally put his hands together on the table, he then gave a sigh and examined the child upon him.

"Andy…" the man breathed, "I know."

"Know what?" Andy asked; being curious.

"You know…about your…. _problem_."

He then leaned forward, "…with dolls…and I assume…."

He gave a quick glance to the counter, "…..dummies…."

Not really sure in what to say, Andy just sat quietly, playing with his hands underneath the table.

The man tried again.

"Look, I'm not mad. I know you probably hear this a lot, but I'm just… concerned. Being a parent, I wanted to give you time to adjust to everything, and _hopefully_ within time, you would feel comfortable enough to talk to me about this. But, after seeing the knife, I feel like we need to talk about it now," the gentleman said.

"So, care to tell me why you had this?" he continued.

Andy slightly looked away.

"I'd rather not, just like everyone I've meet, you'll think I'm crazy."

Robert then gave a genuine smile, "I promise I won't judge you," in an instant, he then thought of something, "Tell you what, if you _share_ your story, I'll share mine; a dark secret that I've never told anybody. Is that alright?"

The boy then looked at the man.

"I—I guess," he uttered in a low voice.

Truthfully, he never really wanted to bring _**him**_ up. But in this case, Andy felt like he didn't have a choice.

His eyes fell on the knife, "I….I had the knife because….I wanted to know if _**he**_ returned."

"If who returned?" Robert asked.

Andy then took a small breath.

" _ **Chucky**_ _"_ he stated.

"Chucky," Robert repeated, "You mean that Good Guy Doll?"

The boy simply nodded his head.

"And you thought—"

He then looked at the dummy across.

"I thought Slappy was Chucky but…he isn't," Andy interrupted.

"How can you tell?" Robert asked; unclear if he was being serious, or just humoring the child.

Hearing the question, Andy turned his head; eyeing the grinning dummy.

"I could tell because….." he paused, "….because of _his_ _ **behavior**_."

"His…behavior?"

"Yes…" the boy returned his gaze, "Slappy seems to be more… _quiet…._ than Chucky was. But then again, the doll had a thing for killing people since he was a criminal," Andy stated.

"A criminal, you mean, Chucky was a person before he became a doll?" Robert asked.

In returned, Andy nodded.

"Yeah, but, I don't really want to go into detail about it," the child added in a low voice.

"It's ok, we don't have to go into it if you don't want to."

Taking another quick glance to the counter across, Robert then got up from his chair.

"Though out of curiosity, I do have one more question."

"What's that?" the child asked.

Without another word, the gentleman then walked over and scooped Slappy up; having him in his arms. Once he had it, the man proceeded back to the table and sat on the chair again; the dummy placed on his lap.

"Do you think….Slappy here…is alive?" Robert finally asked.

Gazing at the _thing,_ and recollecting his thoughts, Andy didn't know what to say. Truthfully, after last night, he thought he confirmed of the dummy not being alive, but remembering how the knife wasn't in the _same_ spot—the mere possibility began to frighten him. Why on earth didn't he just abandon the thing at the orphanage when he had the chance? Other kids _**wanted**_ him, but no, he HAD to say it was a gift to him. What was he thinking?

Seeing that the child was conflicted, Robert became to speak again.

"Ok then, let's just say for this moment, he IS alive."

Even if all this was hypothetical, Andy still didn't like it.

"Don't you think Slappy here would feel bad that you didn't like him, just because you judged him by _what_ he is and _how_ he looks?"

"…..Maybe….I guess…"

"Well…you see Andy….the point here I'm trying to make is….just because you came across a doll that **was** _bad_ , doesn't automatically make others dolls or puppets **all** bad. For all we know, Slappy here just wants to be your friend," Robert explained.

 _Friend…..yeah right…._

 _That's what Chucky said the first day he revealed himself to me…._

 _Telling me he was a guardian angel sent from heaven by my_ _ **real**_ _father…_

He moved in his chair.

 _And Slappy—_

He studied the dummy…

 _I don't know…._

Either it could be his mind playing tricks on him, or that he was witnessing Slappy's very first movements, but as the man still had the dummy on his lap, Andy could've sworn that he saw Slappy's eyes soften a bit.

 _ **This man's right.**_

 _ **I only want to be your friend.**_

His wooden face, portraying to be sincere.

"I know it's not easy…. to try and face your fear…but who knows…maybe having this fella around….will help you find the courage to face it one of these days….it'll be child's play," the man said; giving a small laugh.

"After all," he continued, "that's what happened to me when I was about your age."

"You mean, you were afraid of puppets? "Andy asked not really sure.

"Yeah…" Robert said, "My dark secret…"

He then turned Slappy around; examining him.

"All the kids and just about everyone I knew picked on me and made fun of me because of my fear…

The four eyed freak that was afraid of Pinocchio and all _things_ like him," he stated.

And, just by handling the dummy in his arms, the man began drifting back to memory lane. Those times when the children called him names, tripped him in the halls and on the school bus. Typical every-day things a child bully would do to other children, but, as memory serves, it only got worse as he grew older. Name calling shifted to rock-throwing on his bedroom window, tripping, developed into one-sided fights—he remembered he hid the cuts and bruises from his parents— _and_ to add to the pile…was public humiliation. Not only was he afraid of puppets, but he was also afraid of other things that the children couldn't grasp why. So…. they only did what they knew best, and that was to laugh and shun the people that were different from them. Quite sad, but, in all honesty, going through the things that he did without friends, or having some-one to talk to, he still finds it quite surprising in how far he has come since then. And, it was all because of _her—_

Looking back at Andy, Robert then sat Slappy properly back on his lap again.

— _that_ secret…would be a discussion for later.

"To keep it short, I was basically a loner, I had no one to talk to and no one was on my side…so...I had to figure out things for myself, while for you, Andy—"

He then got up from the table and walked over to Andy's side.

"—you _have_ someone."

He placed Slappy on the child's lap. Andy, quite baffled from the statement, held the dummy as Robert then placed one of his hands on his shoulder.

"When you're ready to tell me the whole story about _**Chucky**_ , I'll be here to listen.

In the meantime, just give Slappy here a chance, ok?" he finished.

"…Okay…" Andy uttered; still unsure.

"Good, now why don't you wash up and get ready for school. I'll make breakfast."

With nothing left to say, Andy slipped off the chair and walked out of the kitchen with Slappy in his arms. Once the child was gone, the man retrieved the knife from the table and placed it back in the drawer. Pretty soon, as he was proceeding to the cabinets, he ended up letting out a soft sigh. Deep down, he hopes he could be able to help Andy, though keeping in mind of what the people from the orphanage said about the child's _'history',_ he knew it wasn't going to be easy; especially, after witnessing a glimpse of the _child dropping the knife, and making a mad dash to his room in the middle of the night._

He's been ignored for so long, that gaining his trust will be quite a challenge.


End file.
